


brave

by cautiouslyoptimistic



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23367211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cautiouslyoptimistic/pseuds/cautiouslyoptimistic
Summary: they met as wide-eyed, sticky fingered, mess inclined, and chatty third graders. and kara had known it was a love story from the startor, it takes a decade for kara to understand her feelings for lena and another decade for her to act on it
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 44
Kudos: 880
Collections: Best Fics





	brave

They met as wide-eyed, sticky fingered, mess inclined, and chatty third graders. And Kara had known it was a love story from the start.

Well, all right. No, she didn't know at eight years old, per se. She certainly had figured it out by the time they were seniors in high school, but in third grade, watching some short, grubby, sniffling boy attempt to shove Lena off the swing set made Kara see red, not hearts, ending up with a fistful of the boy's shirt, making threats there was no way she could've backed up. (That bully hadn't seemed to realize that; she found out he'd transferred schools not a week later, teachers citing he had 'irreconcilable issues' with the other students—namely, Kara.) 

The point, of course, was that it wasn't exactly the beginning of some romantic love story. Rather, it turned into Lena's favorite thing to talk about when they met new people, an icebreaker of sorts when she met with investors and board members and random strangers on the street, the lot of them chuckling over Lena Luthor's childhood best friend. 

("She was barely three feet tall, I swear. But she scared him with nothing but narrowed eyes and a gritted voice and honestly, I don't think I've ever seen anything more impressive. My best friend was, and I guess still is, a badass."

Not that she'd admit it, but Kara always blushed at the story and at Lena's added comment at the end.) 

And the thing was, she knew she screwed up. Because Lena was more than just a best friend to her—most times, Lena felt a little bit like everything. Lena was her rock, her anchor, her grounding point. When everything was going wrong in her life, it had been Lena that she turned to, Lena who held her hand, Lena who allowed her to sob on her shoulder. 

Falling in love with her best friend wasn't a part of their story. Until, well, it was. And once it happened, it felt pretty damn inevitable. (Like the sun rising. Like the stars shining. Like the rising and falling tides. Like the changing of seasons and the blooming of flowers and the fresh scent of an afternoon breeze.) 

Yet, when Kara shared these thoughts with the others in her life, she wasn’t exactly met with a response that inspired much confidence. Alex just laughed at the use of the word inevitable, Winn questioned her sanity more than once, and James had pulled her into a silent hug. And yes, their support would’ve been nice, but it’d gotten to the point that Kara didn’t care what they thought, because they hadn’t been there the day she met Lena. Her sister and friends weren’t there when Kara turned to Lena, her chest heaving in anger, horrified that anyone would dare hurt someone over a swing set, and Lena had smiled at her, stuck out her hand (already practicing her future career, already charming and clever and confident), and leaned forward. 

"Hi," she'd said, "I'm Lena. Thanks for helping me." 

And Kara (clumsy, cheerful, and carefree) promptly fell in love. 

It just took her ten more years recognize it for what it was, then another ten before she did anything about it. 

x

Lena was her best friend.

She didn’t come to such a conclusion lightly. No, at nine years old and precocious to boot, Kara took great care in the way she labeled the people in her life. Alex was her sister in all but blood—their families close, spending most free evenings and weekends with Alex, Eliza, and Jeremiah—and Clark, her actual blood relative, was a continual disappointment, making promises he seemed never able to keep.

And Lena, Lena was her best friend.

“Is that why you talk about her so much?” her mother asked one afternoon, home early from work, an exhausted but pleased expression on her face. “Because she’s your best friend?” Kara didn’t understand the wry smile, the funny expression. It didn’t seem to matter at the time.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully, bounding over to her mother and ignoring her aunt’s snort from where she sat in the kitchen, head buried in a book, hands preoccupied with a mug of hot chocolate (the one she made for Kara long finished, burnt tongue forgotten in the repeated—and rejected—requests for more). “Like you and father! Or Aunt Astra and Uncle Non!”

Astra looked up at the sound of her name, brows furrowed in the way that Kara worked so hard to mimic, and she put her mug aside, lips quirking into something resembling a smile.

“Oh little one,” she began slowly, shaking her head as she clearly steeled herself to say something, her eyes soft in the way she only ever looked at Kara. “That’s not—”

“—it’s fine, Astra,” Kara’s mother interrupted, her own smile still in place. “I’m sure she’ll figure it out eventually without our help. Kara’s a smart girl.”

Astra laughed and agreed, neither her nor Kara’s mother deigning to answer Kara’s repeated questions as to what was so funny.

(Later, Kara will find solace in the fact that though she was too young and too naïve to put her feelings into words, her aunt and mother had understood anyway. Even years later, it felt important that her family had known about what she felt for Lena—it was a big thing in her life, and she was glad she somehow shared it with her family.)

x

Lena did not get along with her adoptive mother.

Kara wasn’t sure why, Lena never quite explained or even acknowledged it except with soft sighs and resigned expressions. Alex told Kara that the Luthors were an old family—Kara didn’t really understand what that meant and Alex assured her once she was a teenager it’d make sense—and that Lillian Luthor was a stickler for tradition.

(The truth was that Eliza and Jeremiah had worriedly discussed a bruise Kara had mentioned to her parents offhandedly when telling them every detail about her day with Lena, and Alex had merely repeated phrases she’d heard her parents utter.

The truth was that ‘did not get along’ was an understatement, not at all an accurate description of what Lena dealt with everyday, and yet those in any position to offer help were rendered powerless against a name like Luthor and everything that entailed.)

Kara wasn’t a teenager like Alex, she wasn’t wise like Lena, but the same protective instinct she’d felt in elementary school made a raging comeback in middle school when Lena confided to her that she was afraid to go home, afraid to disappoint her mother somehow. And it was so different from Kara’s own experiences—her own desire to spend as much time as she could with her busy mother, looking forward to the days she wasn’t buried in cases, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her shirt as she finally walked through the door late at night, forcing the exhaustion from her face and smiling wide at Kara—that she took Lena by the hand and told her quite firmly that she didn’t have to go home at all.

When Lionel Luthor himself came by their home several hours later, he frowned at the protective way Kara stood in front of Lena, listened carefully to what Kara’s mother had to say, then knelt down and placed a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“I’m very glad Lena has a friend like you, Kara,” he said, using his free hand to rub his bald head unconsciously, weariness tingeing his actions and words. “Do you mind if she spends more of her time here?”

“Of course not,” Kara answered, almost offended that he even felt the need to ask. Lena was her best friend. She didn’t think there was anything she wasn’t willing to do for Lena.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lionel Luthor said as he got back to his feet, looked over to Kara’s parents now. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Thank you for your daughter.” He grinned over at Kara, holding out a hand for Lena, seemingly unsurprised that Lena took great care to first squeeze Kara’s hand in thanks before reaching out for her father.

(When she was tucked in that night, Kara’s mother told her she was proud of her, that she did the right thing bringing Lena home with her.

And many years later, Lena will squeeze her hand much like she had that day, smiling as she said, “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”)

x

She was thirteen when her parents died in that fire and her aunt and uncle were jailed for it.

Clark and the Danvers called it an explosion, the papers called it an attack by those who disagreed with her parents’ work, but Kara always referred to it as ‘that fire’ both in her head and out loud. It was ‘that fire that killed her parents,’ ‘that fire that ruined her life,’ ‘that fire that took everything from her.’ She didn’t want to give that fire legitimacy by giving it a proper name, a proper description. It was cruel and senseless and quick, and Kara could do nothing but hate that fire in the only way she knew how: by never dwelling on it, by never giving it a name.

(Calling it that fire rather than ‘murder’ or ‘crime’ or ‘loss of everything she once held sacred’ made her feel better, made her think that maybe one day she would hear the name Astra and not want to throw up, that she could think of her parents and not imagine the horror they must have felt when their own family stabbed them in the back.

Calling it that fire gave Kara distance and separation, two things she desperately needed unless she wanted images of a bright red flame tearing everything she held dear apart seared into the back of her eyelids, visible every time she closed her eyes.)

Only Lena had ever seemed to understand. Only Lena had never once brought it up, merely following Kara’s lead and referring to the explosion, the attack, the death of her parents, as nothing more than that fire.

And Kara was thirteen, she was heartbroken and alone, and Clark—the one her parents had named as her guardian in the event anything went wrong—packed his things and disappeared, leaving her with the Danvers.

(“I’m too young to be a parent,” he’d said, hugging her tightly. “I’m not good for you, Kara, please understand that.”

She didn’t, of course.)

And Kara was thirteen and she had Alex’s warm hugs at night, promising her that they were officially sisters and she’d always be there, and she had Lena’s tight grip on her hand at school, silently swearing she’d always lend her strength, the two of them spending every free moment together.

But Kara was thirteen, and she mistook the love she felt for Lena with the sort of love she felt for Alex, and that seemed enough at the time.

x

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked, chin on Kara’s shoulder, eye on the sketchbook placed on the desk in front of her. She grimaced a little when she noticed the graphite coating Kara’s fingers, and she reached out, plucking each individual digit, prying them from the pencil in Kara’s hand, rolling her eyes when Kara merely huffed and hunched her shoulders, attempting to ward off Alex’s lanky limbs.

“None of your business.”

“You’re in the middle of the living room, it’s my business when you’re in my line of sight.”

“How about I use that argument when you’re chatting with whatever her name is on the phone until three in the morning?”

As if the words were a jolt of electricity, Alex’s arms pulled away from Kara, her entire body floundering as she stumbled backwards, managing nothing more coherent than a series of half-hearted monosyllabic protests.

“That was a low blow, Kara,” Alex hissed once she got her head on straight, looking decidedly annoyed. “You promised not to bring it up if I bought you ice cream after school.”

“You got me a Popsicle, it wasn’t the same and the deal is off.”

“What’re you hiding?” Alex asked, eyes suddenly narrowing, much more interested in the sketchbook than Kara felt comfortable with. “You’re always more snarky when you’re hiding something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of homework and I promised Eliza I’d help with dinner so—” She attempted to pick up the sketchbook and get up from her seat at the table, but Alex pushed her back down, tugging the sketchbook towards herself with only one finger, her movements exaggeratedly slow, as if daring Kara to stop her.

“Rambling and attempting to hide away?” She whistled, flipping the cover of the sketchbook open agonizingly slowly, one finger thumbing the bottom of the first page, drawing out the moment she’d finally turn it over. “It must be a big deal if you’re acting like this.”

“It’s really just a sketch, it’s nothing—”

Alex turned the page, and there, in graceful pencil strokes, was a sketch of their neighbor’s dog.

“Are you kidding? You were hiding this?” Alex demanded, sounding more disappointed than she had any right to.

“I told you it’s nothing, you didn’t believe me.” Kara held her breath, not daring to look away from Alex’s gaze, hoping that her adoptive sister saw nothing but sincerity and honesty. Unfortunately, Alex knew her better than Kara had imagined, because a moment later a wicked grin appeared on her face, and she flipped through the sketchbook, pausing when she reached the pages about halfway through, her eyes widening as she took in the drawings.

“This is so gross,” Alex finally commented, shutting the book and pushing it towards Kara. “You’re gross.”

“It’s not gross.”

“It is. It’s sappy and sickly sweet and it’s just gross.”

“Stop saying that, it’s not gross—”

“—you drew pictures of your best friend like a sap, Kara. Puppies and Lena. That’s what you spend your time drawing.”

“I like puppies and I like Lena. Maybe if you were nicer, I’d draw you too.”

“And be subjected to that cavity inducing mess? No way.” She huffed, collapsing over Kara, arms and legs splayed wide and their position terribly uncomfortable—both because Kara felt crushed and because she was sure the way Alex had thrown herself over Kara couldn’t have been good for her back. “When are you going to do things I can hold over your head for years to come? I mean, besides the getting caught on the roof thing.”

“I do things!” Kara insisted, shoving Alex to the floor when her adoptive sister’s only response was to laugh uproariously at the lie. It proved to be less of a fib much later in the week, after she tossed her paints at Alex, learning through a call from Lena that Alex had torn out one of the drawings and gifted it to the Luthor.

Alex fondly dubbed it the ‘Paint Incident’ and she brought it up every chance she got.

x

“Wait. Wait,” Kara said, holding up a hand and staring at Lena in confusion. “You want to…break into the art room…why exactly?”

“Look, taking art was your fault in the first place, Kara,” Lena said, wringing her hands together and staring determinedly at the floor as she paced feverishly up and down the length of Kara’s bedroom. “You said things like ‘oh take it it’ll be fun, we’ll be in class together’ fat load of fun it’s been to fail—”

“—you’re failing art? I didn’t realize that was even a thing—”

“—so the very least you can do is help me break in to steal back my final piece so that I can fix it before Mrs. Grendson grades it,” Lena continued, ignoring Kara entirely and looking terribly pleased about that fact. She ceased her pacing and turned to Kara desperately, hands now clenched at her sides. “Please, Kara. I can’t fail. Especially not in art.”

Kara stared at her best friend, open-mouthed, trying to think of a response other than flat out laughing at the distress on Lena’s face, the certainty that Mrs. Grendson was capable of failing anyone, let alone a Luthor.

(Lex was long gone, making a name for himself in every corner of the scientific community, but their high school still thought fondly of him—and all the trophies and awards he brought for them.

Sometimes, Kara wondered if it was hard for Lena to grow up with Lex towering over her as he did, casting a rather large shadow.)

“How do you know if your redone work will be better? Apparently you’re terrible at art.”

At this, Lena smirked.

(It did funny things to Kara’s chest.)

“Because you’re going to do it for me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you owe me,” Lena murmured, stepping over to where Kara sat on her bed, advancing rather slowly.

(It made Kara feel like her heart was attempting to pound straight out of her chest.)

“I don’t know if that’s true…” Kara said weakly, trailing off when Lena’s smirk just widened and she was standing so close to Kara that her legs brushed Kara’s knees, the heat of her skin practically burning Kara.

“Please, Kara?”

(She wasn’t sure if it was the please, the proximity, the heavy pulse, or even the pathetic groan she hoped that Lena hadn’t heard, but it didn’t matter. One minute Lena was looking down at her, asking her to break nearly a dozen school rules—and Kara was rather generally fond of rules—and the next Kara was nodding dumbly, unable to say no.

Later she’ll think about this moment, the look in Lena’s eyes as she stared down at Kara, and it’ll give her hope.)

x

For the most part, Kara was remarkably good at pretending she was fine. It’d been a little over three years since she lost her entire family in one fell swoop, and it was easy to fake a smile, to push away the sadness that threatened to creep up and envelop her whole, to take each day as it came and never allow anything to bog her down for long. There was something…easy…about the way she lost her family. It was clean and quick, a surgical cut, and while the pain and emptiness remained, she knew she’d manage to heal somewhat—hobble on despite the scars, keep moving despite the ache that shadowed her every movement.

(She had Alex and Eliza and Jeremiah to lean on too, analgesics during a time she felt overwhelmed by pain, soothing her and calming her, turning the angry, red wound into a neat scar that served as a constant reminder, with a twinge of pain she came to expect on rainy days.

Lena only had her.)

Lionel Luthor’s death was slow and cruel. Lena’s cuts were jagged and deep, never quite given the chance to heal, left festering and infected, scar tissue never forming. There was nothing to soothe her, nothing to do to take away the pain, because each time she even drifted close to the process of beginning to heal, her father’s health began to deteriorate—or even worse, would improve, giving her hope only to have that hope come crashing down.

Lex disappeared on her, unable to witness the slow pace with which the illness took his father, and Lillian…Lillian was never much of a mother anyway, and hoping she’d offer comfort to a teenage girl was too much to ask.

Kara, who’d experienced loss and everything that entailed (the memories that kept her awake at night, the lingering anger at the unfairness of the universe, the regret that she’d never share her artwork with her parents, never excitedly tell them about her day or her passions or her love), wasn’t quite sure how to stitch Lena together. After all, when Kara lost everything, she found herself still loved and still cared for, sure that at the end of the day she could get a hug and a chance to forget her pain. But Lena? Lena had shattered and putting her back together was too big a task for Kara alone. She shied away from hugs, refused to accept comfort, and it took weeks before Kara realized the best she could do was merely offer her presence, the silent promise that she would stay—something solid and real and permanent amongst everything that had changed in Lena’s life.

Because after Lionel Luthor died, Kara learned that sometimes love just wasn’t enough to help people heal.

x

It was two weeks before graduation that Kara…figured it out.

(It being her feelings for Lena, the very feelings her mother and aunt understood before her, feelings she was rather sure Lionel understood before her, feelings Alex understood before Kara even bothered to put a name to them.)

Then again, ‘figuring it out’ was putting it simply, as if she woke up one morning and the knots tangled in her chest somehow unwound and realization came crashing down. It wasn’t like that at all, though. It was slow and arduous, a long time coming and yet somehow mysteriously shocking and life-changing.

She figured that the unraveling of that knot in her chest began with Lionel’s death, when her heart would hammer away in her chest just at the sight of Lena’s smile, which came rarely and disappeared quickly. Or maybe it was when they went to their senior prom together, neither quite willing to put up with boys wearing too much of their father’s cologne and ill-fitting suits. Maybe even it was when Lena held her hand as they laid together in her bed watching a movie Kara had picked out and Lena quietly confided that she didn’t think she was very much into boys at all.

(Most likely, however, it was on a playground in third grade, after threatening a boy she didn’t know and getting the most dazzling smile in reward, a smile Kara would swear shone brighter than any star she spent hours gazing at with Alex.)

It was two weeks before graduation and she felt so stupid for not seeing it before, for not paying more attention, for mistaking the flutter and the swoop and the sense of rightness with the same sort of love she felt for Alex or the boy in her chemistry class who always managed to make her laugh with his antics. She’d allowed herself to pretend, to overlook, to be blissfully ignorant, and all the while her heart had been busy breaking apart piece by piece and reforming somewhere in the palm of Lena’s hands.

She was in love with Lena Luthor. It was such a relief to think, like her lungs had finally managed to fill with air for the first time in her life—as if a weight she hadn’t even been aware of finally was lifted off her shoulders, giving her a chance to stand up straight and tall.

(Every smile that took her breath away, every touch that made her heart race, every comment that had her feeling warm suddenly made sense. And she felt so…blind. How could she have looked Lena in the eye and thought anything other than god I love you and mistaken the promises to always be there and always protect her for anything other than proud declarations of her feelings?

How had she spent ten years around Lena and not realized that she’d fallen head over heels for her best friend?)

It was two weeks before graduation and Lena was lounging on the couch, arguing with Alex over advances in biomedical engineering, the movie Alex had put on long forgotten. At first, Kara had been content to follow along silently, not adding to the debate even when Alex scoffed at Lena’s mentions of Lex’s work, but then her focus had shifted from the words to the way Lena waved her hands around as she tried to get her point across, the way her eyes lit up, the way she impatiently tossed her hair over one shoulder. It was the animation in her voice and the grin on her lips and goddid Kara love her.

As soon as she thought it, she panicked, jumping a little and sending popcorn toppling over the edge of her bowl and onto the ground.

(The thought came so easily, as if it’d always been there in the back of her mind, biding its time until Kara was too distracted or too tired to tack on the just a friend as she tended to do mechanically.

Because of course Kara knew she loved Lena—she just hadn’t been brave enough or smart enough or just old enough to realize all loves weren’t the same.)

“Kara?” Alex asked, staring at her oddly, one eyebrow raised, her argument with Lena forgotten for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Kara?” Lena prodded when Kara was silent a beat too long.

(And she was so beautiful. Kara wondered how she hadn’t noticed before—the smooth skin and dark hair and vivid eyes that seemed to change color—how she’d never been struck dumb when faced with Lena when she was least expecting it.)

“I—I’m fine. For a second I thought I forgot to do homework but then I realized hey! It’s graduation soon! What does it matter, right? Ignore me, honestly, I think it’s just that I haven’t been sleeping—”

“Up talking all night with Daniel again?” Alex asked with raised eyebrows, looking like she was about to approach Kara, about to attempt to needle information out of her, but Kara could only stare at Lena, watching as her best friend turned to look at the ground. 

(It’s not what it sounds like, Kara wanted to yell. She didn’t like Daniel—not like that. But he was helping her with Lena’s surprise for graduation, something that had taken longer than Kara had expected.

But Lena wasn’t meeting her eyes and Alex was waggling her eyebrows suggestively and oh this was bad time for a life-altering realization.)

“Daniel’s helping me with something,” Kara said quickly, getting to her feet and crossing her arms, not at all amused by the way Alex kept grinning. “Besides you know I don’t like him.”

Alex laughed, shaking her head.

“Um no,” she said, turning to Lena as if to ask for support, eyebrows furrowing just slightly when she noticed Lena’s pinched expression and downcast eyes, “you’ve been super secretive these past few weeks. What’re you up to?”

“Can we just watch the movie please?” Kara begged, and something must’ve shown on her face because Alex’s eyes shifted from Lena (who was still staring rather determinedly at the floor) to Kara and then back, her mouth falling open in shock or excitement or confusion—or maybe a little of all three.

“You know what, the movie sounds nice,” Alex murmured, shooting Kara a look that screamed they’d be spending that night talking on the roof like they did when Kara was first taken in by the Danvers and everything was still so raw.

(Kara thought to just tell Lena right after graduation, blurt out the truth just like ripping off a Band-Aid. But when the day finally arrived, Kara could barely breathe when she looked out into the sea of parents and suddenly found herself longing for her family, an ache that wasn’t made easier even though Alex was screaming in the stands and Eliza and Jeremiah were clapping as loudly as they could.

And if Kara was struggling, how did Lena feel when no one showed up for her at all?

So instead Kara shoved her feelings down and gave Lena the bracelet she’d gone to Daniel and his family for help to make, deciding then and there she could wait.

She just ended up waiting a little longer than she expected.)

x

She always found an excuse to remain silent, utterly convinced by the lies she told herself, the I’ll tell her tomorrow and the it’s not a good time and the she looks so busy right now.

She stayed silent the entire summer before they went off to college (“Come on, Alex,” she’d defended when Alex gave her knowing looks and made pointed comments, “she’s not even here, she’s on vacation in France with Lex”) and then bit her tongue during the first several months of their first semester, nodding and forcing a smile whenever Lena spoke of her first real girlfriend (“She’s beautiful, Kara, and so smart, god I could listen to her talk all day”), shamefully relieved the day she learned that long-distance had been too much to handle for the other girl. In fact, the first time Kara came even close to admitting the truth was their first Christmas away from home, the two of them deciding to spend it with Alex and a girl she’d only introduce as ‘Sawyer’ with a strange expression on her face.

She came close to admitting the truth when Lena brushed by her and whispered that it was so easy to tell when someone was in love, grinning over at Alex and winking playfully, and Kara wanted to ask, if it truly was so easy, why Lena still hadn’t been able to tell Kara was in love.

She didn’t of course.

Lena looked terribly busy as she chatted away with Maggie, a smile gracing her lips.

x

It took Alex and Maggie another month to get their shit together and admit their feelings.

A month after that they went on their first date.

Near the end of Kara’s freshman year Alex had rushed over to Kara’s dorm, gushing about how she just admitted she loved Maggie and how great it felt and how Kara had to tell Lena now, she just had to.

And Kara…well, she tried.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Kara said with a grin, just finishing off her story about Alex for Lena, the two of them laying out on the grass outside the building where they had their last exam. She leaned back, staring up at the blue sky, hands pillowed behind her head. “It’s romantic and sweet and just…new love. How beautiful.” She was about to say more, wax poetic about how happy Alex was, maybe segue into her own feelings if she felt an opening, but Lena snorted slightly and Kara found herself turning to her best friend, shocked to see the distaste coloring Lena’s expression. “What?” Kara asked, rolling her eyes a little. “Is this too saccharine for you?”

“No, I’m happy for Alex.” When Kara just raised an eyebrow in response, Lena sighed and elaborated. “I am happy for Alex. It’s just…come on, Kara. Let’s be real. Love doesn’t exist.”

(If there was anything that could break Kara’s heart, it was that.

And god it was said so easily, so terribly sure and matter of fact, and Kara didn’t know why it was so hard to breathe suddenly.)

“W-what do you mean? Love is real. You’re my best friend and I love you.” (This was the closest she’d ever get to admitting the depth of her feelings for another nine years.)

“That’s not the same,” Lena answered, pink dusting her cheeks suddenly, looking awfully interested in the grass. “Love is…it’s a series of chemical reactions. And it’s temporary and fleeting and finicky.”

(Temporary? Fleeting? That wasn’t Kara’s experience. She’d been in love since she was eight, before she could recognize it for what it was, before she knew the feeling had a name.

But if Lena was right, which she often was, did that mean what Kara felt wasn’t love, was something different, something stronger and more lasting?)

“Lena, you can’t mean that. Love is, you know, love. It’s why we’re here. It’s why anyone does anything. Even if you don’t feel romantic love—”

“I don’t mean I don’t feel it, Kara. I mean it doesn’t last.” She swallowed hard, clenched and unclenched her hands, turning to Kara warily. “Look, can we just talk about something else?”

“Well no, now we can’t, now I want to know why you’re so anti-love.”

Lena stared at her, expression hard and lips pressed into a thin and angry line, then she turned away. Kara didn’t think she’d answer until she did, Lena seeming more surprised by her honesty than Kara felt.

“Because I asked my mother if she loved my father,” Lena admitted in a soft voice. “And she said love had nothing to do with it.”

“Your mom isn’t exactly the picture of—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Kara. Okay? I’m happy for Alex. I hope things work out for her.”

Kara wanted to argue, but Lena’s shoulders were tense and she knew if she said one more word on the topic, Lena would up and leave. So she just sighed.

“So. About the writing class I want to take…when do you think you can fit it into your schedule?”

(She didn’t need Lena’s relieved smile to know she’d made the right choice.)

x

She met Mike through Winn at the end of her junior year, and she cursed him everyday for it.

“For the tenth time, no Mike, I don’t want to go out with you,” Kara hissed the moment Mike stepped into her space, his eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. He looked surprised by her anger, which only served to piss her off more.

She came out to drink with her sister and friends, not spend an hour trying to shrug off Mike.

“Whoa, I wasn’t going to ask you out,” he defended, holding up his hands. He smiled at her and she hated—hated—that he seemed vaguely charming in that moment. Then he opened his mouth. “Look, I’m a prick. I know it. You know it. But I’m a prick that knows a lost cause when I see one. I give up.”

“It took you ten tries to realize it was a lost cause?” she huffed out sarcastically.

“Nope,” he told her, drawing out the pop. “It took meeting Lena Luthor once. So?”

“So what?”

“Ah, avoidance strategies. I know them well.” He grinned and motioned at the seat next to her, actually waiting until she made a vague sign that he could sit. “I know all about unrequited love Kara Danvers, and if that’s what’s holding you back, you shouldn’t worry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kara bit out, not at all in the mood to carry on a conversation anymore. Mike didn’t seem at all bothered by her annoyance. If anything, he seemed strangely…fond? Endeared at the very least, something that made Kara’s stomach churn uncomfortably.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you what you already know,” he began, giving her a look and a wink when Kara couldn’t help but briefly glance at where she knew Lena was standing, deep in conversation with Winn about one of their classes. “But I do want to offer my help.”

“Your help? Why would I need your help?”

“I know a few things about love,” Mike said, wiggling his eyebrows and making Kara want to gag. “And I know for a fact that nothing makes you more attractive than when people think you’re…forbidden fruit, shall I say.”

“That sounds stupid,” Kara said flatly, rolling her eyes and refocusing on her drink. Mike, however, didn’t seem to recognize her body language as the dismissal it was.

“Trust me, Kara. Make her jealous, make her think she can’t have you, and she’ll be running right into the palm of your hands.”

“And let me guess, you volunteer to pretend to date me.”

Mike missed her deadpan.

“It would be my honor, Kara,” he said, aiming for gallant and charming but coming off as more than a little creepy.

Kara sighed, shifting in her seat to face Mike and motioning for him to lean closer.

“Mike,” she began slowly, watching as the beginnings of a smile formed on Mike’s lips, “that is absolutely, undeniably the worst idea I’ve ever heard. It also sounds predatory.” Her hands clenched and she knew her eyes had hardened because Mike’s smile was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look, as if he couldn’t understand her anger. “Lena’s my best friend, not some prey to be baited into dating me. So if you don’t mind, keep yourself and your lousy ideas away from me and Lena.” She gave him a harsh smile, watching in satisfaction as he nearly stumbled in his rush to get away.

It was only a minute later when Alex took the seat Mike had abandoned, a questioning look on her face.

“You look like you’re ready to punch someone,” Alex said cheerfully, attempting to defuse the tension, make Kara smile. It worked.

“He says he’s given up, that’s something.”

“Oh? Finally realized it was a lost cause?”

“Apparently Lena is too much competition for him.” It was the first time Kara ever tacitly admitted her feelings for Lena, the first time she acknowledged it aloud, and admitting it now to her sister felt a little like a rush of fresh air, clean and crisp and carefree. Alex smiled, thankfully not making a big deal of it, reaching out to squeeze Kara’s shoulder gently.

“Come on,” she said. “Maggie beat me once at pool and she’s become insufferable. You have to beat her, deflate a bit of that ego.”

“You can’t beat your own girlfriend?”

“Honestly? I think the competitiveness is cute. And she looks so happy.”

“But you want me to beat her?”

“If you do it, she won’t be upset with me.”

Kara stared at her sister for a moment, grateful and a little jealous all at once, then laughed, not for the first time, ridiculously glad for Alex Danvers.

x

Amongst their friends it was a well-known fact that Kara and Lena did not fight.

This was strange for several reasons. For one, not fighting did not mean there was any shortage of disagreements. In fact, Kara and Lena disagreed on a great deal (“No, Lena, you can’t just write off someone because of something he’s done in the past. People can change, they can choose to be better”) and were often seen in the middle of quiet, measured, and passionate debates (“I understand your position, Kara, but I can’t just ask my brother to give someone a job, it’s unethical and she’s not even in a STEM field”). For another, as their majors and hobbies and interests drew them further apart, it was always assumed that distance would crop up in their relationship, adding pressure to an already precarious situation (“Come on, Kara, how long are you just going to pine after Lena before you realize something’s got to give?”).

And yet they did not fight.

Their disagreements were just that: disagreements. More than once, Maggie commented on how easy it was for Lena and Kara to resolve their conflicts, talking through their issues within the hour it cropped up, nipping it in the bud expertly and efficiently.

(When Winn asked for their secret, Kara had laughed. “It’s simple,” she’d said, patting Winn on the shoulder. “There’s two rules: never lie and never allow issues to fester.”

“Kara, you make it sound like that’s easy,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. Lena, who was arguing with Maggie over the choice in wine—not quite willing to go another night with the cheap brand Maggie bought from the supermarket, ignoring Maggie’s protests that they all tasted the same anyway—took the time to grin over at Winn and Kara, shaking her head fondly.

“It’s not easy,” she’d informed Winn. “But it’s worth it.”

“Totally worth it,” Kara had echoed, not hearing Maggie’s mumbled get a room.)

Thus, no one was more surprised by their fight the week before Christmas than Kara and Lena.

“What do you mean you go home for Christmas?” Kara demanded, arms crossed over her chest, unable to help the hitch in her voice.

(She was angry. Never lie, she’d told Winn, turning out to be a joke.

Except no, she was hurt, and she wasn’t used to that when it came to Lena, had never looked at her and thought, ouch.)

“Come on, Kara. It’s not that big of a deal—”

“—you’ve been going home these past two years, to your mom, and you’ve been telling me you spend Christmas with Lex. Why would you lie?” Kara’s interruption didn’t go over well. Rather than respond, Lena’s lips twisted, her eyes narrowed. Kara hadn’t seen her this displeased since she’d made a B in an inorganic chemistry class.

“I don’t have to discuss every single little thing I do with you, Kara,” she finally said, and by the way her eyes widened—the way she immediately stepped forward, as if to take what she said back—she regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

(Later, Kara will wonder why the comment felt like something piercing her between the ribs, why it felt like a blow to the middle, leaving her breathless and heaving for air. She’ll wonder why it hurt so much when logically she understood that Lena didn’t need to share every detail of her life—Kara certainly didn’t, hadn’t told Lena about that balloon of emotion in her chest every time she even looked at Lena.

Later, Kara will wonder if this was what being heartbroken felt like.)

“I see,” she muttered, raising her chin and stepping back when Lena looked like she was about to reach out. “You’re right.” (She was. After all, Kara hadn’t told Lena about her feelings, feelings she shoved away, torn between it never being the right time to confess and the certainty that a confession would only serve to break them apart.) “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Kara—”

But for the first time, Kara didn’t listen.

They didn’t talk again until they both returned to campus, at which point they both pretended the argument never happened.

(Never allow issues to fester, she’d told Winn.

Well that turned out to be a joke too.)

x

“As far as electives go, it’s not the worst,” Lena graciously conceded, attempting and failing to wink over at Kara from across the table. Alex—visiting for the weekend—snickered before pretending to choke on a potsticker when Kara glared at her. “I’ve actually learned a lot.”

“The humanities are boring, Luthor, admit it. You crave labs and the thrill of discovery and late nights with nothing but coffee, microscopes, and Jack’s suffocating cologne.”

(Kara turned her head, suddenly overly interested in the baseball game on the television, not wanting Lena—or worse, Alex—seeing her grimace.

Pfft Jack. He was…annoyingly decent and frustratingly kind. Jack was Jack and Kara didn’t question it when Lena said he’d asked her out on a date after long months spent working in the same lab, didn’t mention her late night confession back in high school, didn’t ask Lena if she was sure when she said she wanted to give him a chance.

Because Jack…he made Lena smile.)

“Go back to your formaldehyde soaked apartment, Alex,” Kara scoffed when she realized she’d been silent too long—long enough that Alex was looking at her knowingly and Lena seemed a little bit concerned. “Don’t you have slides to study?”

“I take a break from studying for you and this is how I’m treated?” Alex said in mock offense, leaning back exaggeratedly and placing a hand over her heart. “I’ll have you know, medical school is no joke.”

“Then go back, I’m sure all your professors are missing you,” Kara muttered, dragging her finger through the condensation that had gathered on her glass. She flicked the water over at Alex, narrowing her eyes when it just made her sister grin.

“You could’ve stuck with physics, you know. No one forced you to change your major.” Except, judging from Alex’s eyes and the uptick of her right eyebrow, that wasn’t what she was saying at all. It was more like you could tell Lena and put yourself out of your misery or maybe something like stop moping already and eat the last potsticker. 

“I like my major,” Kara said, leaning back in her chair. And judging from Alex’s resigned expression, she’d read that to mean stop meddling in my life.

“I hate it when the two of you have your silent conversations,” Lena said suddenly, pulling Kara and Alex out of their stare off. “You’re not as sneaky as you like to think. There’s too much eyebrow wiggling and sighing.”

“You sound jealous, Luthor,” Alex said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Kara likes you too.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“—speaking of electives,” Kara interrupted, already tired of Lena and Alex’s faux arguing, a habit they’d formed since Alex went off to medical school and Lena asked Lex to push LuthorCorp towards investing more in biomedical engineering. “I have to go rewrite my story.”

“Yeah, I still don’t get that. Why are you rewriting your assignment?”

“Kara decided our professor was wrong in assigning the prompt in the first place. But with the threat of a failing grade looming over her head, she’s finally willing to see reason,” Lena explained, smiling over at Kara fondly, apparently terribly amused by Kara’s show of protest.

Alex, clearly deciding that today was the day she wanted to settle once and for all who knew Kara best, just raised an eyebrow and looked steadily at Kara.

“What was the prompt?” she asked softly, like she knew, without having any of the details, exactly what was twisting in Kara’s chest and why she was willing to nearly fail—why she’d rather fail.

“We’re supposed to write something that ends tragically. It’s supposed to be a homage to naturalism.”

“That’s not quite the prompt, Kara, you’re—”

“—so we weren’t supposed to have a unhappy ending for our characters?” Kara said, cutting Lena off more harshly than she intended. She turned away from Lena’s hurt expression and focused on Alex, unable to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Oh, Kara,” she said after a moment. “It’s just a story.”

“That’s not the point, Alex,” Kara said, arms crossed over her chest. She knew Alex was getting so much more from that one comment, reading in-between the lines and understanding just how deep it went.

“I know,” Alex said, and it broke Kara’s heart because Lena just seemed confused—when normally, she was the first to notice something was wrong.

x

James Olsen was…gosh, he was James Olsen.

He was kind and generous and brave and he dragged Clark right back into her life, and when he spoke Kara thought her knees would give way because gosh he was James Olsen.

He was sweet and passionate and could make her laugh with ease, and he was late for work the day they met because apparently she made the bestcoffee he’d ever had and he couldn’t believe his best friend’s cousin worked at the café down the street for nearly a month without his knowing.

“It’s fate,” he said, grinning as he tossed several twenties into the tip jar, much to the glee of Kara’s coworkers. “I’ll see you later, Kara,” he added and made it sound charming and not creepy like Kara was used to (because it was a question, a request, made confidently and kindly, with all the promise of respecting her wishes and boundaries).

(And Clark was grinning next to him, his eyes sad as he looked at her but the hint of a promise on his lips, a whisper of things changing as he murmured a quick and awkward goodbye.

Clark, who left her. Clark, who was back again thanks to James Olsen.)

James Olsen…James Olsen made her heart flutter, made her stomach fill with butterflies, made her feel heard and respected and important. He took her around Metropolis, on his daily attempts to snap a quick picture of whatever caught his interest, telling her all about what it was like working with Clark and Lois and Perry White—telling her about the Daily Planet and finding a home behind the lens of his camera. He spoke of his father, of his admiration for all those who gave everything to help others, his hope that one day he could do the same.

And Kara…she told him about Alex, about missing Clark sometimes even if she was still furious that he left her behind, she told him about her parents and the lab her father worked in, the cases her mother poured over at nights pausing long enough only to make sure to tuck her in. She told him about how she’d wanted to follow her parents’ footsteps, wanted to help people, wanted to do something important with her life.

She told him about her Aunt Astra—how she wanted to see her again, wanted to find out why she did what she did, if she regretted her actions, if she felt guilty that she ruined Kara’s life.

She told him about Eliza and Jeremiah and how much she loved them.

She told him about moving to Metropolis and how she’d imagined it would be the next big adventure, that coming here would change everything—help her find her place.

She did not tell him about Lena.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t admit that Lena had a permanent place next to Alex in her heart, couldn’t tell James that Lena was a constant before and after her parents—a grounding point, an anchor. She couldn’t confess that Lena held her hand throughout all her anger at Clark, all her mixed feelings over her Aunt Astra, didn’t even know how to say that Lena was her family as much as Eliza and Jeremiah.

She didn’t even say that the move to Metropolis was for Lena, for them to remain together in some way even while she was off rising in the ranks in her brother’s company. She…she couldn’t even begin to verbalize what it felt like to watch Lena slip away, for their daily lunches and texts to dwindle down to nothing in weeks, for Kara to hear Lena apologetically say she just didn’t have the time to come to game night, even if Alex had gone out of her way to visit.

Kara told James about every big thing in her life, but she couldn’t talk about the biggest, and when she kissed him for the first time—the night he brought her Chinese and ice cream to cheer her up after she’d texted him to say that she hadn’t gotten the job at the Daily Planet like she wanted—she couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t be right if she fell for him because she was rather sure Lena’s shadow would always hang over her.

But James was James, and when he kissed her back, she fell anyway.

x

It took months before Lena met James.

(It wasn’t weird that her best friend didn’t seem all that interested in meeting her boyfriend. It wasn’t strange that Winn took more interest in her love life than Lena, her best friend. It didn’t bother Kara at all that Alex flew in and spent a day with Kara and James before Lena even acknowledged that Kara had a boyfriend.

She was busy. Kara understood.)

Her tiny apartment—that she was barely able to afford with her meager salary from the café and the few random freelance articles she’d written—was full to the brim with only a handful of people. James was busy grabbing plates and glasses from the cupboard, chatting with Winn as he did so, discussing an article Clark had written with Lois. Lena and Alex were on the couch, arguing over bioethics concerns coupled with the rapid advancement in medicine. Kara leaned against the doorway, watching them for a moment, smiling at Alex’s impassioned speech for more regulation as well as Lena’s counterpoints that innovation could never be curbed.

It was nice, this moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to witness Lena and Alex’s arguing, both of them throwing around words that eventually went over Kara’s head—even if she’d studied the sciences in college. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to see Lena’s wide smile.

Kara stiffened at the thought, at the longing she felt, and with a guilty glance back at James, she shuffled over to the window, opening it as far as it would go, and climbing through it, dropping down onto the metal fire escape. The cool night air calmed her somewhat, but not as much as the sounds of honking cars and indecipherable voices, the rattle of a train somewhere in the distance, the sound of music coming from one of the lower apartments.

“Oh, there you are,” James said, sticking his head out of the window and smiling. It was charming and cute and he was so perfect for her. She loved him so much. “I was wondering where you went off to, and there aren’t a lot of hiding placing in your apartment.” He smiled wider at his little joke, joining her on the fire escape, looking down at her like he always did: like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen. And Kara wondered if she was somehow broken, because she deserved this, she did. She deserved someone who would always be with her and always take her needs and wants into account. And yet…yet all she could think about was how James deserved better than her—that he offered more than she ever could, and she’d dragged him far enough behind her for it to be cruel and wrong.

“James, I—” She stopped when he shook his head, still smiling and still looking at her like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen, even as his eyes filled with understanding and his shoulders slumped with resignation.

“It’s Lena, isn’t it?” he asked, no real bitterness in his tone, just quiet acceptance. “I guessed, you know? From the start,” he explained, chuckling mirthlessly at her look of shock, leaning against the railing and turning to look up at the sky. “You avoided talking about her so much I knew you either hated her or loved her, and I don’t think you’re capable of hate. But I was sure when I saw you look at her tonight.”

“She’s my best friend,” Kara said haltingly, wanting to hug James or lean into his warmth or use his shoulder to steady herself, knowing that none of those things were appropriate anymore. “I thought I just needed—I thought if I…I don’t know what I thought.” She was quiet for a moment, choosing to look through the window and watch Winn join Alex and Lena’s debate, Winn saying something that made them all laugh. “Is it really so obvious?”

“For someone who’s looking for it? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” James told her, knocking his shoulder lightly with hers, prompting her to look at him. “You know, she feels the same way.”

No, Kara didn’t know, barely considered the possibility. But her heart thumped at the very thought.

“Even if she did, she’s…I don’t think she has the time for a relationship.”

“She’s your best friend, Kara,” James said, accepting her point easily. “If anyone knows her it’s you.”

She nodded, but boy, Kara didn’t think that was true anymore.

“Do you think that job in National City is still open?” she asked suddenly, avoiding his eyes when she noticed concern begin to flood his features.

“Kara,” he began, “I don’t know if running away is the answer.”

“It’s not running away. I’m—I thought I’d find something here. I thought being closer to Clark, being in Metropolis would help me find what I’m looking for. But it wasn’t. And Alex is in National City,” she tacked on at the end, as if it would settle the issue. In many ways it did though, and James knew it.

“It’s still running away,” he told her softly, not really arguing but just pointing out a truth. “If she’s your best friend, what are you so afraid of?”

(And oh leave it to James to get to the heart of the issue, to look at her and understand and not let her get away with deflections and excuses like Alex tended to. She was afraid. Of what, Kara wasn’t quite sure. Maybe that Lena wouldn’t feel the same way. Maybe that it would change something between them. Maybe that it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back and Lena’s flimsy presence in her life would disappear entirely.

Maybe it was just that every time Kara wanted to confess, she thought about how Lena didn’t believe in love at all and it broke her heart.)

“Are you upset with me?” Kara asked weakly instead of answering James, and though he gave her a look that clearly said he knew what she was doing, he indulged her anyway.

“No,” he answered, having paused long enough that Kara knew he’d put real thought into it, had searched his feelings for any hint of anger or bitterness, a slight tinge of surprise in his voice when he found none. “No, I knew what I was getting into, even if I hoped I was wrong. So it’s not like you led me on or anything.”

“I’m so sorry, James.”

“Don’t be,” he said, waving her off, his voice slightly gruff—like he was holding back some sort of emotion. “Can I just—would it be weird to ask one thing?” When she shook her head, James cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “If you met me before her, if you’d never met her at all—” He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave a firm shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said after a moment. “What ifs don’t matter.”

Kara studied him sadly, from the stiffness of his shoulders to the fixed smile on his lips, and she felt something in her break.

“Can we—can we just stay out here for a while?” she asked in a low voice, knowing that returning inside would make this all real, all permanent, would mean that there would never be any going back. And James—soft, kind, generous, and gentle—gave her a real smile before wrapping and arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer to him, his warmth shielding her from the nip of the night air, his presence as sturdy and strong as ever.

“However long you need, Kara,” he whispered into her hair.

And they stayed out there for what felt like ages before Alex came to collect them, brows furrowed and expression concerned.

x

She was still on her phone as she sat down across from Kara at the café she’d chosen—a fancy place Kara normally would never have stepped in under her own volition—but before Kara had the chance to feel annoyed, she shoved the phone away and smiled brilliantly at her, and things were fine again.

Until she spoke, at least.

“Kara! It’s been so long, I am so sorry, things at work just got—”

“I know, Lena. Lex put you in charge of R&D, that’s huge.”

(She tried not to sound bitter, but she was rather sure she mostly failed because Lena was looking at her oddly, hurt at Kara’s tone. But the thing was, Kara was furious. She only found out about Lena’s promotion through Clark and an article he’d written about LuthorCorp. Even worse, when he’d asked if she could get into contact with Lena and see if she would be willing to sit down for an interview—something that might’ve made Perry White see reason and give her another chance for an entry-level job at the Daily Planet—she’d gotten nothing in reply. Not even a text back.

She remembered a time when they couldn’t go two days without talking. Now they were going months without a single word between them.)

“Kara, are you—”

“I have news of my own,” Kara interrupted, smiling wide and knowing it likely seemed forced, knowing because it felt forced. “It’s why I was so insistent we get coffee.”

“Oh?” Lena asked, giving Kara that smirk she loved so much. “Did you get that job at the Tribune you wanted?”

Kara blinked.

“No. No, they turned me down nearly a year ago.” It had been one of the first jobs she’d applied to upon arriving at Metropolis. And though she’d thought Lena had been the one to bring her potstickers to cheer her up, she now realized that had been Clark and Lois, the two of them cheerfully tearing down everyone at the Tribune just to make her laugh.

(Had she just inserted Lena into her memory? Imagined her there to offer comfort because Lena had always been there before? Was she sick? She was rather sure there was an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy devoted to Izzie seeing things.)

“Oh,” Lena muttered, looking as shocked as Kara felt.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kara hastened to say, both not liking the look on Lena’s face or the dark path her thoughts were winding down.

“Isn’t it though? The next thing you’ll tell me is you married James.”

She was going for a joke, Kara knew that. But boy, did the comment hit her like a truck. For a moment, she could barely breathe.

“Actually,” she struggled to say, “we broke up a few months ago.”

“Kara,” Lena said, eyes now so wide that it was comical. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kara let out a loud and undignified laugh, but it was better than letting out the sob that threatened to break free.

“Alex said she thought you weren’t listening to your voicemails. Guess she was right.”

“I-I’ve been in the lab,” Lena stuttered through her shock. “I didn’t realize—I’ve been—Kara, I’m so—”

“It’s fine,” Kara stressed, waving off Lena’s pleas and smiling at her. “That’s not why I asked you to coffee either. You see, I did get a better job—”

“—that’s amazing, Kara, I had every confidence you would, you’ll make a wonderful reporter—”

“—as Cat Grant’s personal assistant,” Kara finished, speaking over Lena.

“Sorry, what?”

“Apparently Ms. Grant has gone through four assistants in four months. Clark and James think that if I can hold the job for a few years, I could move up. Get a job as a writer for Ms. Grant’s magazine.”

“That’s hardly hard-hitting journalism, Kara, it’s not what you wanted—”

“—no, but I have to be realistic. Perry White was never going to give me a job. CatCo might.”

“It’s in National City,” Lena pointed out suddenly, as if this would put an end to whatever argument they were having.

“I know. That was my second bit of news, actually.” She paused for effect. “I’m moving!”

Lena didn’t look as thrilled as Kara hoped she’d be.

“You’re what? When?”

“I’m moving,” Kara repeated, checking her watch surreptitiously. “Alex and I are making a road trip out of it. She flew in last night and we’re leaving in a few hours. She likes to drive at night.”

“You’re leaving? Tonight?” She looked hurt by that and Kara felt guilty for only a moment before her anger and frustration returned. (Never lie, never let issues fester—that was how they managed to never fight, for their arguments to get settled quickly and efficiently, without much hurt on either side. But Lena was lying and Kara was allowing issues to fester and she was rather sure the resulting implosion was inevitable. Needed, even.) “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Why don’t you ever call me back?” Kara returned flatly, getting to her feet. “You’re my best friend, Lena. You always will be. But I’m unhappy here, moving to National City is a good choice for me.”

(It felt like they were breaking up. But that was ridiculous. They hadn’t been dating in the first place.

She idly wondered why no one had ever mentioned that losing your best friend hurt worse than losing a boyfriend.

She idly wondered if her position was unique because she was losing Lena.)

Lena got to her feet as well, and for a glorious moment Kara imagined a scenario in which Lena kissed her senseless, in which she grabbed Kara’s hands and fought to make her stay, in which she swore she’d stop being so distant, so faraway even in the moments they were together. But the moment passed quickly and Kara crashed down to reality when Lena only offered her a weak smile.

“Don’t lose touch, okay?” Lena said, playing with her watch and staring at the table. She made an awkward movement, almost like she wanted to pull Kara into a hug, but stopped halfway and just remained motionless. It would almost be funny if it wasn’t just so sad.

Kara ignored the question, gathered all her courage, and placed a soft and brief kiss on Lena’s cheek.

“Bye, Lena.”

(Lena didn’t chase her down as she left the coffee shop, didn’t find her huddled in an alleyway, wiping her cheeks furiously, didn’t even come by hours later, as Kara found every excuse to delay their trip National City and Alex continued to give her pitying looks.

And by the time they were on the highway, Kara staring out her window without speaking, that goodbye felt rather permanent.)

x

She rather thought that National City was good for the soul.

It was sunny in National City, the people seemed livelier, kinder, warmer. And even if Cat Grant was in one of her terrible moods—which she was in at least once a day, usually because someone from photography and layout had messed something up—Kara could always count on sticky buns from Noonan’s to cheer her right up. (Not Cat, obviously. Cat wouldn’t touch one of those buns with a ten-foot pole. No, the sweet was for Kara.)

She had Sister Night in National City, a job she usually adored and a goal she was determined to reach, an apartment she loved, and wonderful new friends.

Kara was happy.

Really.

“Kara, I’m watching that. Stop changing the channel.”

“Why do you need to watch the news, don’t you get enough of it from Maggie?”

(Another thing National City had? A chance for Kara to witness her sister’s happiness. She’d broken things off with Maggie sometime during medical school, but had run into the newly minted detective and things had apparently just…worked out. Alex was smiling all the time, and it was beautiful.)

“Just because you avoid everything that has to do with Lena—”

“—I don’t do that,” Kara denied, shaking her head quickly and vehemently.

“—doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do my research so that I can destroy her when she visits. She’s got to know her brother’s company does more harm than good.”

“Do you talk to her?” Kara found herself asking despite herself. It was stupid. She knew it would just hurt if Alex said yes and bum her out if Alex said no. It was a no-win situation and she hated herself for it.

“Only when she visits. And you know she always wants to see you too, but you keep acting surly.”

“Sorry if I expect my best friend to care about me more often than only when she’s in National City to oversee something at a branch of LuthorCorp.”

“You’re both ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Alex said happily, turning the television off once she noticed Kara’s grimace. “She’s your best friend.”

“She didn’t come after me.”

“You know she can’t run in heels,” Alex joked, and Kara struggled to keep her impassive expression, “that’s not her fault.”

“She hasn’t tried reaching out.”

“Because you’ve shut her out,” Alex countered, referring to the almost weekly trips Lena made to National City the first month after Kara moved. Each time, Kara had said she was busy with work and couldn’t get away, and Lena would leave with only a text goodbye.

And then those had stopped too, the visits. The calls and the texts became rare enough that it was almost as if they had stopped.

At times, Kara thought if it weren’t for the occasional press conferences Lena gave in her brother’s place, she wouldn’t have even known Lena was healthy and happy.

“Come on, Kara,” Alex continued, “you’re older than her, you’ve got to be the mature one.”

“I’m only older by three months!” Kara huffed, throwing herself onto the couch and staring hard at the ceiling. “Besides, distance is good. Great, even. More than necessary. We were too dependent on each other.”

“Right, and my hair is green,” Alex deadpanned, leaning over Kara and shaking her hair in Kara’s face, as if to show off her auburn locks. “For two smart people, you’re both being really stupid.”

“You’re being really mean. Like Ms. Grant mean, and that’s just sad, Alex.”

“Shut up and move over, if you’re not going to let me watch the news, you might as well put on a movie.”

Kara did as she was told, only half-heartedly listening to Alex’s running commentary on the film she’d put on, finally breaking after half an hour—much to Alex’s very obvious amusement.

“I miss her,” Kara admitted in a soft voice.

Alex’s expression fell, and she pulled Kara into a hug.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, voice full of something Kara couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Have you tried drawing her and puppies to feel better?”

“No ice cream for you,” Kara muttered while Alex apologized for her joke, but she was hiding a smile in Alex’s shoulder, so she supposed her sister wasn’t very sorry at all. 

x

She’d begun to think something might be wrong when the name ‘Luthor’ appeared in the news more often than normal.

The family was always in some way making news. Whether it was funding research for a cure to a rare disease or a shady business deal with a foreign company, LuthorCorp and by extension the three Luthors in charge, was consistently in the public eye. It wasn’t always good, but it was never obviously bad, either.

Until, however, Lex seemed to go off the rails entirely.

It started slow, slow enough that at first Kara didn’t even notice in between watching news clips while waiting for Ms. Grant’s coffee. There was an odd article about abnormal contracts with weapon manufacturers. Then, there was a report or two about odd—if not outright strange—transactions with certain individuals that any wise businessman wouldn’t touch.

About a year after Kara moved to National City, the Daily Planet published an explosive article that LuthorCorp was secretly funding a weapon production program and selling said weapons to various third parties.

Six months after that, Lex was arrested on a vast array of charges, Lillian Luthor stepped away from the company, and Lena was named CEO and took on the brunt of the backlash as LuthorCorp basically went up in flames.

And for the first time in about eight months, Kara heard from Lena:

Clark did all the legwork for the article.

And well, Kara was quite familiar with the sensation of her family members destroying things she loved, and it didn’t come as a shock at all.

x

Kara eyed her new office apprehensively, leaning against the far wall and staring at her empty desk with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She was thrilled, she was, she’d been eyeing a job like this since she arrived in National City, but now that she had it….

It was a little anticlimactic. She’d called Alex and her sister had been appropriately overjoyed for her, as were Eliza and Jeremiah, and yet something felt missing. Something felt wrong.

(She stared at her phone, at the news notifications about LuthorCorp’s move to National City and their planned rebranding, and she tried to pretend that had nothing to do with how she felt at this moment.

She tried and she failed.)

“Ready for lunch?” Alex asked from behind her, eyes kindly averted, choosing to stare at her nails instead of the look of panic that quickly took over Kara’s expression when she continued scrolling through the articles and stopped at what must have been the most recent photo of Lena, looked ragged and annoyed as she shoved her way past reporters to get into her building here in National City.

The caption below the photo wasn’t flattering.

“Have you seen her yet?” Kara asked, knowing Maggie was waiting for them at some vegan restaurant, wanting to celebrate Kara’s promotion. Alex continued to stare at her nails and Kara continued to think that was rather kind of her.

“Why? Will my answer change what you plan on doing?”

“What do you think I’m planning on doing?”

“Honestly?” Alex asked, finally looking up and eyeing Kara critically. “I think you’re going to keep pretending you’re not missing her.” She hooked her arm through Kara’s and dragged her out of the empty office, pulling her towards the elevators. “When you wanted to leave Metropolis, I was glad. I hated seeing you waste your life away in a coffee shop just because you wanted to be near Lena.” As the elevator doors slid shut, Alex leaned heavily into Kara’s side, head resting on her shoulder. “You were right. You did need to learn to live your own separate life from Lena, but now that you have, just go see your best friend. She needs you.”

“What about the vegan restaurant? Maggie is waiting,” Kara protested, resisting weakly when Alex tugged her into CatCo’s lobby and then out into the street. “We were going to celebrate.”

“Don’t act like you’re not excited to miss out on this restaurant,” Alex said with a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to Kara’s cheek, a halfhearted attempt to make sure there were no hard feelings between them. “Go home, Kara. Think about what you’re planning. Then go see Lena.” Then, without giving Kara a chance to argue, Alex shoved her lightly in the direction of her apartment and then turned on her heel, walking briskly away in the opposite direction.

And Kara went home, fully intending to drown all her doubts and sorrows in a pint (or two) of ice cream.

Or at least, what was what she intended. She never really got the chance; by the time she’d changed into her comfort pajamas, a thick blanket thrown over her shoulders, and was digging through her freezer for that ‘rainy day’ ice cream, there was a knock on her door. Grumbling and annoyed, because of course Alex wouldn’t trust her enough to believe she would actually listen to her sister’s advice (for good reason, she supposed, considering her current state), Kara practically stalked towards her door, throwing it open with more force than necessary, eyes pressed tightly shut.

“Alex, you need to let me have my night to mope, can’t your lecture wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry,” said someone with a voice that decidedly didn’t belong to Alex. “It’s a bad time, this was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come.”

Kara’s eyes flew open, and before her visitor had the chance to step back, Kara had reached out for a hug—it was instinct, it was habit, it was just what she did. And when she got her hug back, mismatched edges seemed to finally slot into place, and Kara felt like she could breathe again.

“It’s always a good time for you,” Kara said into Lena’s ear, unable to help her wide grin.

x

“Come on, Lena. Feel the burn! Enjoy the burn! If it hurts, that’s how you know it’s working!” Kara called over to Lena, watching her struggle with mild amusement. She’d suggested morning jogs as a joke initially, but Lena had taken to the idea with surprising eagerness, something Kara was rather sure she regretted now, in between all the heaving breaths and the sweaty hair. She wondered if Lena still thought it was a good way for them to rebuild their friendship.

“I…can’t…believe…” Lena managed to say between gasps, bending over with her hands on her knees and head practically in her chest. “…people…do this for…fun.”

“I could carry you on the way back if you like.”

“This isn’t a joke, Kara,” Lena said, looking over at her with narrowed eyes. “You killed me. I’m dead. Say goodbye to the last sane Luthor, please don’t let my obituary be too embarrassing.” She straightened as she spoke, stretching out her back and arms and Kara was a little bit distracted to immediately respond.

“Don’t say that,” she finally found the voice to admonish. “Of course your obituary will be embarrassing. I’ll write about the time we snuck into the art room to fix an assignment you’d already made a perfect on.”

“I didn’t know it’d already been graded, Kara,” Lena said, not looking particularly glad that this had been brought up. Kara wondered if she remembered the way they’d giggled as they escaped the school building, tangling pinkies and swearing they’d never bring it up again. “It was ugly, what sort of person gives perfect marks on something so ugly?”

“Well, I thought you were adorable,” Kara said without thinking, grimacing as she registered her own words, “I mean—not adorable, but um, adorably criminal.”

“It was my Luthor genes shining through,” Lena joked, winking when Kara rolled her eyes. “I’m ready to go now, you don’t have to go so slow because of me,” she added when Kara jogged in place, staring out into the park—looking at the couple walking their dog and the old woman sitting on a bench reading the newspaper. Kara laughed, listening to Lena’s heavy breathing, and shook her head.

“Oh shucks, look at that, my shoes are untied,” Kara said in mock surprise, leaning down and untying her shoelaces before taking her time to tie them up again. She took extra care in making sure everything was tight, going as far as to untie and retie her right shoe—just in case. And when she looked back up, Lena was staring at her with a mix of fondness and confusion.

“Back in Metropolis,” she began.

“Lena, I don’t—”

“—I avoided you. I wasn’t working all the time, I could’ve seen you more often but I…” she trailed off, frowning. “And I didn’t realize how much that could hurt until you avoided me. When you left. And I’m sorry.”

“Why were you avoiding me?”

Lena blinked, looking like she hadn’t expected the question, but surely she should have. She’d brought it up, she made it a point to apologize. Of course Kara would want more explanation.

“How about a race?” Lena suggested, ignoring Kara’s question completely. “First one to the gate gets to choose breakfast?”

Kara’s grin was her only reply.

(Needless to say, she won the race. They ended up with sticky buns and coffee from Noonan’s, Kara regaling Lena with horror stories about needing pick-me-ups at all hours, depending on Cat Grant’s mood.

And the entire time her thoughts were a million miles away, wondering what would make Lena avoid her in the first place.)

x

“You know,” Lena said in between mouthfuls of pizza, “I never thought I’d say this, but reporters aren’t so bad.” She took a sip of her wine—the charm and sophistication of the action lost on Kara as Lena was drinking her wine out of a plastic cup—and smiled benignly. “There’s even one reporter I’d go as far as to say I like.”

“Oh really? Let me guess. She’s a dazzling cub reporter at CatCo. Golden hair, dazzling blue eyes, impeccable fashion taste?” Kara asked, grinning and pointing at herself exaggeratedly, not quite appreciating Alex’s snort or Maggie’s not-so-subtle shake of her head. She opened her mouth to tell off her sister and her sister’s girlfriend, but before she could, Lena smiled softly and derailed all of Kara’s thought processes.

“Well, I was going to say Lois Lane, but yes, you’re a close second.”

“A—a close second? To Lois?” Kara spluttered indignantly, mouth falling open in offense. “Was she the one to write stories about the phoenix-like rebirth of L-Corp and the CEO that spearheaded its rise? No. That was me. All me.”

“But that corruption article—” Lena said, not even bothering to hide her laughter as Kara stared at her in betrayal. “I’m joking,” she said when Kara went as far as to push her plate of pizza away, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Alex snorted again. “Your articles are wonderful, I’m so grateful for them, Kara.”

“I didn’t write them as a favor,” Kara mumbled, turning her head and glaring at Alex, daring her to let out another snort. “I wrote them because it’s the truth. You rebuilt LuthorCorp from the ground up. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Ugh,” Alex cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “Come on, Maggie, that’s our cue to leave. They’re going to be gross again. Compliments thrown back and forth, no you hang up first,” she tacked on in an affected voice.

“You don’t give me any compliments,” Maggie said, almost petulantly, while Kara found herself unable to do much more than open and close her mouth repeatedly, no response ready on her lips.

“Shh, Maggie, it’s okay. It’s their foreplay.” Alex grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and dragged her out of the apartment, leaving Kara and Lena alone at the table.

“So,” Lena said, sipping calmly from her plastic cup of wine, “when do you think Alex will remember this is her apartment?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going to steal all her vinyls.” She paused her plotting and stared at Lena thoughtfully. “Is Lois really your favorite reporter?”

“Of course not,” Lena scoffed, waving a hand, as charming, clever, and confident at twenty-eight as she’d been at eight years old, merely amplified by the years that had passed, still managing to leave Kara in awe with nothing but a smile. “You’re always my favorite, Kara. In everything.” The words brought her heart to a thudding stop. Her eyes were fixed on Lena’s lips.

(She was going to do it. She was going to stand and lean in, she was going to settle that voice in her head and that thrumming in her chest once and for all. She would know, know for sure how Lena felt, all she had to do was be brave in this single moment—gather all her courage and ask onesimple question, hope to whatever was out there that Lena would nod, would say yes, would dispel of words entirely and close the distance between them.

She was going to do it, she was going to do it.)

The door swung back open and Kara was rooted to her seat.

“Can you believe Alex forgot this was her apartment?” Maggie laughed as she approached the table, frowning as she took in Kara’s face and then Lena’s. “Are you two okay? You both look like you saw a ghost.”

“F-fine,” Kara stammered, tearing her eyes away from Lena’s lips and forcing a smile. “I just said I was going to steal all of Alex’s vinyls.”

“I heard that!” Alex called from the door, letting it swing shut behind her. “But you know, if you do manage to pull it off, it might even outdo the roof thing. But nothing can top the Paint Incident,” she tacked on dreamily.

Maggie and Lena laughed, familiar with both stories, and Kara sighed, unable to help it when her gaze flicked briefly over to Lena.

She felt her courage fade, felt the moment slip past her fingertips, and she couldn’t help but sigh. But when she did, it wasn’t Alex who looked at her quizzically and in worry. She was too busy rolling her eyes at something Maggie was saying. Instead, it was Lena who looked at her in concern, eyes wide and pleading—wordlessly asking if she was okay, back in sync for the first time in years.

(At the very thought, Kara felt much of that courage race right back.)

x

It was very late or very early, Kara wasn’t quite sure which, and she and Lena were lounging on the couch in Lena’s office, leaning heavily on each other, Lena’s work long forgotten. It’d been quite some time that they’d had nights (mornings?) like this, Lena calling her because she felt her world spiraling, and Kara the only one who could stop the spinning for even a moment. Sometimes there were tears, more often there was total silence, Lena tightly grasping her hand until Kara couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.

This morning (last night?), Lena had just buried her face in Kara’s shoulder, not saying a word for hours as Kara rubbed her back and muttered nonsense under her breath just hoping to ease whatever Lena was dealing with this time.

“Do you remember Jack?” Lena asked suddenly, bringing up her ill-fated whirlwind romance from their last year in college without prompting. Kara nodded hesitantly, wincing a little internally as she thought about all the anger she’d directed towards such a perfectly decent guy, wondering if she should call him up one day and apologize—admit she’d been jealous and she’d really had nothing against him. Then again, to admit that to Jack would mean she’d first have to admit those feelings to Lena, and she wasn’t quite sure if that would ever happen—at least, if her track record was any indication. “I really wanted things to work out with him. Thought if I could focus on him and my studies, I could forget about everything else.”

Kara’s breath hitched and she swallowed hard. Admittedly, it hurt to hear Lena say something like that. Because around that same time, Kara was feeling lost, had needed her best friend, and had been left unmoored and aimlessly floating away from shore in Lena’s absence. It hurt to hear that Lena’s distance had been intentional.

“Okay.”

“Are you going to ask why?”

“Would you answer?”

“I don’t know,” Lena admitted softly, tucking her head more comfortably under Kara’s chin.

“Why did you lie about where you were going for Christmas?” Kara asked instead, voice barely a whisper, unsure even now if she should bring it up. Lena stiffened slightly, then inhaled deeply, relaxing just as suddenly.

“My mother told me she wanted to make up, start over. She told me she knew she strained our relationship and wanted to fix it.”

“Did she?”

“No. As it turned out, she just wanted me to spy on Lex for her.” Lena cleared her throat and pulled away from Kara, shifting so that she was sitting on the very edge of the couch. “Besides, after working at LuthorCorp for a few months after graduation, it was obvious Lex was up to something, and it was obvious she was trying to hide his mess for him. She was just trying to use me as a pawn—I was disposable, you see.”

“You’re not disposable,” Kara immediately argued, not sure if she liked the way Lena laughed in response—like she found the comment inherently flawed, but couldn’t bring herself to explain just how wrong Kara was.

“I’m not sad, Kara,” Lena explained gently, shrugging when Kara looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not.” She shrugged again, seemingly not caring that Kara had been rendered speechless. “I’ve known what my mother is my whole life.” Her head tilted to the side, and she studied Kara so intently for a moment that Kara was sure she was reading every single secret Kara had buried away deep in her heart for safekeeping. “But then you just waltzed in one afternoon and forced my dad to take a stand.” She reached out and took Kara’s hand, squeezing tightly, eyes showing no hint of melancholy. And it was a beautiful sight. “I’m not sad, because whatever my mom has done, I’ve always known I had you.” She smiled then, something changing in her expression, something Kara sometimes saw in her own reflection. “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just…me.”

“You’re my hero,” Lena said, grinning when Kara gave her another disbelieving look, finding it difficult to ignore the pounding of her heart, though she was giving it a valiant attempt. “Can I ask a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you leave Metropolis?”

(And oh Kara felt her courage fail her at this critical moment. She felt it escape her in a flood, a mass exodus of bravery in the face of such overwhelmingly terrifying prospects. Because an admission could lead to reciprocation. It could lead to a moment she’d imagined again and again and again. Or it could lead to horrifying and awkward rejection, a friendship she treasured and missed dearly when it was out of reach—when it felt shattered beyond repair—becoming lost forever.

And oh Kara stared at Lena and she found she’d brave any enemy, any storm, any short, grubby, sniffling bully if only it meant she’d have a chance to keep Lena in her life.)

“It’s hard to get over someone when they’re in the same city as you,” she found herself saying, a non-answer that she thought said entirely too much. (Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“You and James were really good for each other,” Lena nodded, and it was the way she looked at the ground, the way she released Kara’s hand, the way she swallowed, the way her eyes grew sad that Kara finally, finally, saw what Alex had seen, what James had seen, what even gross Mike had seen. “It makes sense that he’s hard to get over,” Lena added, a pinched expression on her face, one that Kara caught even if most of Lena head was turned away.

(Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“Actually, Lena,” Kara began slowly, heart racing, “I wasn’t talking about James.” Lena turned to her in shock, eyes wide, and of course Kara began to ramble, stomach swooping up and down and feeling as if the blood rushing through her veins was on fire. “He was wonderful. He is wonderful, I mean. But he’s not wonderful for me. Does that make sense? I mean, he’s perfect. But it’s really hard to love someone the right way when you’re in love with someone else and I—”

“I was jealous of James!” Lena blurted, apparently quite surprised by her own interruption. “I couldn’t—I didn’t want to hear about him. I’d be jealous of anyone you were with. So I avoided you, because I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t know if I could hide how I felt—”

“—I hated Jack,” Kara confessed. “And that girl from France, the one you met before we started college, I hated her on principle, and James told me I’m not capable of hate, but they had you and I hated them and—”

Lena interrupted her again, this time by grabbing her face and pulling her forward, her lips on Kara’s making it quite difficult to talk at all. It was awkward and needy and full of a pent-up sort of want and it made Kara’s head spin, it fried all her nerves, it left her permanently incapable of any sort of rational thought. Because Lena—her best friend, Lena—was kissing her.

“Wait, wait,” Kara said suddenly, pulling away from Lena’s kisses, unable to help her smile at Lena’s groan, “so are you anti-love?” Lena’s eyes, which had been closed, opened lazily, and she blinked at Kara in confusion, seemingly unsure what they were talking about. “You said you didn’t believe in love,” Kara elaborated, feeling her ears heat up because as far as she knew, she’d admitted she loved Lena, but Lena had just admitted feelings, and what if she was making a fool of herself, reading too much into one kiss—even if said kiss was as singularly mind-blowing as Lena’s?

“I was nineteen,” Lena admitted softly, and she reached out with a hesitant hand, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Kara’s face and then cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing idle patterns into her skin. Kara felt rather than directed her eyes to flutter shut, felt rather than directed her head to lean into Lena’s hand. “I was bitter because I’d fallen for my best friend and I didn’t think she’d ever feel the same way.”

“So not temporary and finicky?”

“Not in my experience, no.”

“You know, if you hadn’t said that, if you’d just waited ten seconds, I was going to tell you how I felt that day.”

Lena didn’t answer for so long that Kara opened her eyes, only to be met with impossibly soft eyes.

“That’s okay,” Lena said finally, leaning forward to press her forehead against Kara’s. “I sort of like how our story ended up anyway.” And when Lena closed the last of the distance between them, pulling Kara into another kiss (being brave never felt so good), Kara couldn’t help but agree.

x

The next time they all got together, Kara and Lena were holding hands and sneaking not-so-sneaky kisses and gazing adoringly at each other, and upon seeing it, Alex first pretended to gag before she laughed uproariously, demanded champagne in celebration, and told anyone who’d listen that she’d called it from the day she found out that Kara alternated her time between drawing puppies and Lena.


End file.
